


set a fire, watch it burn

by feistycadavers



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dacryphilia, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Emetophilia, Ficlet, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Tags Are Hard, Vomiting, abuse of parenthesis frankly, maybe if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 13:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19975084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistycadavers/pseuds/feistycadavers
Summary: “Please,” Jim grits out, brows furrowed, desperation in his voice. He shifts his weight between his knees, nervous energy.(He’s been waiting for this for days. Waiting for a hotel night.)or, the one where jim pukes on mick's dick. sorry god, sorry mom, sorry obama.





	set a fire, watch it burn

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Wicked Way You Thrill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17180729) by [Synnerxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synnerxx/pseuds/Synnerxx). 



> remember how last time i posted an emeto fic i said i didn't have a puke kink? well. about that.
> 
> in my defense i was left unsupervised and was browsing /r/gag_puke (extremely nsfw subreddit full of rough maledom femsub porn so proceed with caution), and the fic by synnerxx marked as having inspired this mentioned mick fucking jim's face so hard he pukes and i read that shit like 3 months ago and have NOT GOTTEN IT OUT OF MY HEAD. so like. i had to drabble it. it's not in the same universe, and has nothing to do with their fic, literally i just got stuck on this one throwaway line and needed to write more about it.
> 
> i'm sorry?
> 
> so there's no Puking During Blowjob or like, Puke On Dick tag, but there is that. that happens. in this text. consensually. pre-negotiatedly.
> 
> this is also absolutely not edited and was written in one night because as i said, i was unsupervised. i meant to work on my longfic. i really did.
> 
> i wrote another ficlet in this kinda style with a whole lot of parenthetical asides but i don't know if i'm going to post it yet or not, so i thought i'd give it another go in a ship i'm comfortable posting. give it a proper test drive with the People. so lemme know how you feel about it. inquire within for the other thing if you want.
> 
> vol3 era i guess. but it's not really specified. just what my terrible terrible brain was giving me. so y'know, feel free to read as any era. title from american bluff by skold. this has been the longest author's note ever sorry

Jim’s fucking neurotic on the best of days.

(Mick knows this. Is more than willing to help him get out of his head.)

Mick’s fingers curl in his hair, where he kneels in front of him. The only person big enough to make even Jim feel small.

(Weak. Given he can’t wrestle himself out of Mick’s grip, whether he’s trying to fight back for real or not.)

Jim’s fingers hook in the waistband of Mick’s jeans, pulled down around his hips. Eyes wide and green, trained up at Mick’s, visibly struggling to stay up when Mick knows he’d rather be looking at the cock frustratingly close to his mouth, close enough Mick can feel the heat of his breath, and Mick brings his hand down to Jim’s jaw, thumbs over his chewed red bottom lip, and Jim’s mouth opens reflexively. Mick doesn’t enter, just holds his face in his hand, the other still in Jim’s hair.

“Please,” Jim grits out, brows furrowed, desperation in his voice. He shifts his weight between his knees, nervous energy.

(He’s been waiting for this for days. Waiting for a hotel night.)

Mick obliges him. Nods, permission. Jim opens his mouth again, swallows him down, and Mick lets him. Jim’s hands fist in the fabric of his jeans. Mick lets him ease into it, set his own pace. He watches, fingers still in Jim’s hair, not guiding, just holding. Jim brings his hand to the base of his cock, steadies it, takes him further down. Mick flattens his hand to Jim’s head, curls around the curve of his skull, holds him in place. Jim stills there, Mick pushing forward, feeling the back of his throat, pressing. Jim shudders and Mick lets him pull off, spit stringing. Jim coughs once.

“Sorry,” Jim murmurs. “Been a bit.”

(It has. At least since they did this like _this._ )

“You’re doing good,” Mick says, and the flush rises in Jim’s cheeks, goes back down before Mick can really see him blush. He takes Mick’s cock back into his mouth, right to the back again, and pushes himself this time. Mick just watches as Jim fights his gag reflex, blinking quickly, his eyes welling. Mick places his hand on the back of Jim’s neck and Jim adjusts, sitting up off his knees to allow him down his throat, and Jim chokes a little. He retches on Mick’s cock, pulls off, drooling thick throat spit.

“Fuck,” Jim whispers, but he doesn’t wait to take him back down. Jim’s really pushing, and Mick pushes back this time, fucking into Jim’s mouth. With Jim’s stomach as full of water as it is, it won’t be hard. Jim grabs onto Mick’s waistband again and lets him, choking, his body curling in on itself reflexively. Finally, Jim retches again, spit and puke spilling out of his mouth, still around Mick’s cock. Mick pulls back, lets Jim clear his throat, spit on the towel below them, then shoves himself right back down his throat. Jim’s eyes are ringed red, lashes clung together with tears.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Mick says quietly, knotting his fingers in Jim’s hair, and Jim forces Mick down his throat, struggling to cough around him, lids fluttering. 

(An honest compliment. An objective statement.)

Tears break from Jim’s eyes, glassy, wide. He’s sliding off somewhere else, somewhere where he doesn’t have to be anything but a hole for Mick to fuck. Mick’s cock jerks in his throat.

(That’s the whole point of this, really. The head is just a bonus.)

Jim laves his tongue into the underside of Mick’s length, even as Mick’s fucking his mouth. Mick grits out a moan between his teeth, the orgasm rising, and Jim shudders again, another flood of vomit coming up, and Mick fucks his throat through it, only letting him off enough to suck in a breath through his nose. Jim chokes, coughs, and Mick forces him back down. 

(Jim knows how to stop him if he wants to. He never does.)

Mick pulls him down on his cock, holds him there, stills him long enough to stave off his orgasm for another moment. Jim retches, but nothing comes up. It’s all on the floor beneath them. 

“Good boy,” Mick says. Jim’s eyes turn up at him, darkened. Checked out. Mick lets go of him, and Jim pulls off, dry heaves, sobbing once. Mick works himself slowly, cock slicked with spit and vomit. Jim pants, shifts closer, and Mick lays the length of his cock against Jim’s face, trapping it there with his thumb, dicking against him, through tear streaks. Jim purrs.

“Please,” Jim begs, his voice breaking, fucked raw.

(Mick would never admit it, but Jim is physically impossible to say no to.)

Mick holds Jim’s mouth open, eases his dick back in, cradles his jaw. With nothing left to puke up, Mick settles for chasing his orgasm, and fists his other hand in Jim’s hair. Jim lets him fuck his throat, his own hands weakly clung to Mick’s front pockets, dragging his jeans further down. Mick doesn’t warn him, doesn’t give him the courtesy. Jim doesn’t want the courtesy. He comes far down his throat, enough to make Jim cough again, struggle to swallow. When the last of it spills out into Jim’s mouth, he steps back, takes in the mess he’s created while taking Jim apart.

“You’re so good,” Mick says again. “Fuck. Come here.” He takes the extra wash towel off the counter next to them, wipes Jim’s tears. Starts the process of putting him back together.

**Author's Note:**

> skold.tumblr.com

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Coming Through The Fog](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979311) by [dysphorie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysphorie/pseuds/dysphorie)




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